Mine to Lose

by T. K. Rapp

  When I walk in the door, I expect to find it as I left it this morning but something feels off, out of place. When I close the door behind me, I drop my bag on the couch and go to our bedroom to change into some comfortable clothes. I slip my dress off and pull on a tank and yoga pants before going to the bathroom to wash the makeup off my face. As I dab my face dry with the hand towel on my side of the vanity, I notice it. It’s small, but it’s missing. Ryan’s razor is gone.

  I start to look around to see what else is out of place. His side of the closet has less clothes, so I look for the other duffle bag that he reserves for his camping trips, only to discover that it’s gone, too.

  “What’s going on?” I start talking to myself, realizing I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack. I walk to his side of the bed and the book he is reading is still there, but his phone charger is gone. My purse is on the couch, so I walk out there to grab my cell phone to call him, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I see an envelope sitting on the counter. I creep to the letter and eye it as if it has the ability to attack me. ‘Emogen,’ is written on it, in Ryan’s handwriting, and I find it hard to bring myself to open it.

  I smack the letter against my hand, trying to prepare myself for the contents. “A letter?” I ask of no one, since I’m alone. The couch is my favorite spot in the apartment, so I sit at the edge and imagine what his words say. I’m leaving you. I don’t love you anymore. I made a mistake. I could sit here all night and conjure up the worst, but I have the words already in my hands.

  Em,

  Don’t freak out but I came by earlier and packed some things up. I’m staying at Dean’s place because I think we need some space. I tried to call you earlier, but you never answered. You said you need time to think. I’m not sure what that means, but it makes me think that I need to do the same. You are making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. But at some point, we do need to talk, so call me when you’re ready.

  Ry

  Ry? He just signed his name? No, “love Ry,” nothing? Just his name. I am so angry I can’t see straight. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a phone call - not now, maybe not ever. He has the nerve to write me a damn note to say he’s gone.

  I slide my finger across my phone screen and immediately find the number, among my favorites, that I want to call.

  “Hello?”

  “Joss, it’s me,” I say in a rushed tone.

  “Of course it’s you,” she grumbles. “I see your name. What’s up? Still want to get something to eat?”

  “No, I need to go out, I need to drink.”

  “What’s going on?” Her voice goes from fun to concern. I haven’t gotten to tell her about our fight yet, which is why we are going out for dinner, so we can talk.

  “Ryan left,” I say in a low monotone. It’s not even the truth; at least it’s not the truth, yet.

  “Be there in ten.” She doesn’t say goodbye because she knows I mean business. I should feel bad for not telling her the whole story and letting her worry, but he did just leave me a note.

  I’m so angry and I don’t think that my typically modest attire will suffice. I hurry to my closet and search for the skimpiest dress in my possession. When I find what I’m looking for, it’s so far in the back I’m afraid if I blow on it, dust might actually fly off of it. I change out of my comfy cloths and slip into the sexy purple off the shoulder dress that I haven’t worn since college. It is one of Ryan’s favorites; maybe someone else will like it, too.

  I’m looking for trouble.

  I look down at my hand and eye the ring, a promise that we made to each other. The hurt I feel is greater than my desire to wear something that I’m not sure represents the original promise. The ring has taken up residence on my finger for over a year, so when I take it off, the white line shows the remnants of what once was. There’s a light knock at the door that startles me out of my ring-induced trance, so I finish touching up my makeup before answering.

  I am expecting Joss, so seeing Ryan standing in the threshold surprises me. The look on his face goes from neutral to shock-filled in less than a second, and I beam inside, knowing that he might be pissed.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, annoyed.

  “I thought we could talk.” Confusion laces his tone.

  “I think you said everything you needed to say in your note,” I bite out. “Besides, you told me to call when I’m ready, and well, I guess I’m not ready. In fact, I have plans.” Before I can elaborate, Joss walks in, sees the two of us in a standoff, and starts to back away.

  “Hey, Joss.” I call to her, from around Ryan in a chipper tone. “I’ll be ready in five.” She nods her head, but looks as though she might not be around in five minutes because she wants to bolt.

  “Em,” he says my name in a warning tone. “We need to talk.”

  “You’re right, we do, but I guess this is how things will work now. We just do whatever the fuck we want without consulting each other.” I grab my purse and walk past him, but stop at the still opened door. “And like I said, I have plans.” I turn to leave and shut the door behind me, but the moment I’m outside, I feel my legs tremble. I worry that I just made a big mistake.

  Joss turns to me as I catch up to her on the stairs. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

  “Just get in the car. I don’t care where we go, I’ll tell you about it when we get there.”

  * * *

  After going to her apartment and filling Joss in on everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, she agrees that I need to get out and unwind. I haven’t been to a club in a while, and the last time I went, Ryan was with me.

  Ryan.

  I try to turn off all thoughts of Ryan and enjoy the night, but I know that’s not going to be an easy thing to do.

  We get to the club and with every drink I have, my moves become looser and I become less inhibited. And with every drink, I know that tomorrow I’m going to regret tonight. Joss and I remain on the dance floor for what seems like hours, dancing to song after song. I find myself missing my engagement ring, if for no other reason than to keep the guys at bay. They’re bringing us drinks, and we accept with a smile before turning our backs and ignoring them for the rest of the night. Most of the guys seem to take it in stride, but there are a few who are insistent on dancing with us. I politely turn them down, and eventually they walk away. Some leave with a “Bitch” remark, while others give us dirty looks before finding someone else.

  Joss yells to me, over the blaring music, that she is heading to the restroom. I nod, opting to remain on the dance floor. I’m swaying to the music, enjoying the energy, when a pair of hands find the sides of my rib cage and graze their way down my side and stop at my hips. The motion is swift, seductive, and unwelcome. I spin, in a hurry, on my heels to push the groper way. When I do, I look up to see my fiancé with a serious look on his face waiting for a reaction.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” I yell over the music.

  “So you just let guys touch you?” The disappointment in his question tugs at my heart, but his question doesn’t deserve an explanation. I shove past him and walk away. Of course he’s not one to let it go, and I know he is stalking behind me. I get to the table and set my clutch on the top so I can try to get the attention of a bartender.

  “You won’t talk to me, but you’ll go to a club and dance with strangers?” He glares at me, and I counter with my own annoyed stare, but he continues, “I don’t get you.”

  I’m normally very good at giving the cold shoulder, but the cocktails that I’ve had have me loose lipped. “Ryan, you left.”

  “You told me to leave! Hell, you said if I didn’t go, you were. All we’ve done this week is fight.”

  “So you run away?” I ask. My voice is raised, only so he can hear me over the music.

  He opens his mouth to respond but stops short when he looks over my shoulder. His look is murderous, so I turn to follow his stare to see a man standin
g behind me. Walk away, I think to myself.

  The guy looks down at me, never making eye contact with Ryan, “You okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Ryan answers for me and I turn to him. “My wife and I were just leaving.”

  I smirk at Ryan and his use of the term “wife” before turning to see my would-be hero. He’s attractive. In fact, he looks like Joss’ type, but I’m not looking for someone to save me.

  Hero-guy narrows his eyes, assessing me, as if making mental notes about my condition and I feel self-conscious under his stare. He pulls his eyes away from mine and looks directly at Ryan. “I don’t care if she’s your wife, you need back off. I was talking to her.” His voice is calm and strong, like he’s someone who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

  I blink in shock over his words to Ryan, who looks like he’s about to blow up. I give hero-guy a tight smile and nod that I am okay, but he doesn’t look completely convinced. He cocks his head and drops it a fraction lower, silently questioning before he walks away. Part of me is grateful to see Ryan act out of sorts. But the other part of me is annoyed, because being the jealous guy isn’t his thing and now is the wrong time to start displaying his tough-guy act.

  “Ryan, I am not leaving with you. I’m here with Joss,” I inform him, but I realize that Joss hasn’t returned from the restroom. I start turning my head in that direction to see if I can spot her.

  “She called me,” he states, answering my unasked question, clearly annoyed. “That’s why I’m here. She told me where y’all were, along with some other slurred things I couldn’t make out, but they sounded mean as hell.”

  My best friend drunk-dialed my boyfriend, who I am not speaking to at the moment? I’m irritated and the room is spinning, but I need to find Joss. “Where is she?”

  “I saw her near the front and told her to wait for me.” He grabs my clutch and reaches for my hand, which I impulsively pull away. “Let’s go.”

  “Fine,” I answer tersely.

  I don’t let him put his arm around me. I don’t let him hold my hand. In fact, I don’t let him walk behind me. I will not give him the satisfaction of controlling this situation. I follow him out of the bar and out to his car that’s parked in the side lot. I guess we’ll just come back for Joss’ car tomorrow. My friend looks in too bad of shape for me to be angry with her, so I quietly climb into the passenger side of his Jeep.

  The entire ride to Joss’ place, I stare out the window and look at the buildings we pass along the way. I know I’m drunk, but the gravity of what’s happening in our relationship has me sobering up. I don’t bother to look at Ryan because either I will speak first and say something stupid, or he won’t say anything at all. This is one fight I don’t want to lose, but if I’m not receptive to a conversation, the only thing I’m going to lose is the love of my life.

  We arrive in front of her building and Ryan gets out to help her inside. Joss clambers out from behind me, and as she turns to shut the door she gives me an apologetic smile that is easy for me to return. I love my best friend, and although I don’t know what her motives for calling him are, I know it wasn’t malicious.

  “Call you tomorrow,” I tell her as she walks to the entrance of the building. She looks over her shoulder when she gets to the door and offers a sloppy wave before shutting the door behind her. Ryan gets in and starts off for home without another word.

  The ride home is silent except for the ringing in my ears from the loud music in the club. I don’t feel the urge to bother with conversation and I guess Ryan doesn’t either, because he turns up the volume on the radio and never takes his eyes off the road. When we finally get to our place, I just about bolt out of the Jeep and head to the entrance, with my key in hand. I hear him behind me, but I increase my pace until I am at the door. I push the key into the lock, open the door and toss my clutch onto the counter before flinging the door shut. But it never shuts because Ryan catches it before it has a chance.

  “Ryan.” I turn to face him to question his presence, but I don’t get the chance as he grabs me and his lips land on mine. My hands instinctively move around his neck as he continues to kiss me. But as reality hits, I struggle in his grasp before I finally pull my face back from his. “You need to go,” I plead as the room spins and I’m not sure if it’s the kiss, or the numerous drinks I’ve downed. I’m breathless and not at all sincere when I push him away. His movements are slow and gentle as he kisses a trail from my cheek down to the base of my neck. I could get lost in this moment- in him. I want this and the simplicity of the moment. But then I recall his note, and it’s the cold shower I need. “You need to go,” I repeat.

  “No,” he says, as he finally loosens his grip on my waist. “You told me to leave last night, and I did. I don’t think we are better for it.”

  “Well, I’m not the one who packed a bag today,” I remind him.

  “We have some things to talk about,” he says. “Like, what was tha-”

  “Hold that thought,” I interrupt, rushing to get to the bathroom, fighting a sudden wave of nausea.

  I empty the contents of my stomach not once, but three times, before finally passing out. I wish the night had ended differently; perhaps with me making love to my fiancé, who will soon be leaving for another state.

  CHAPTER 4

  After Ryan left the other night, I had nothing but time on my hands to think. Sometimes, when you say something before you can stop yourself, all you have is regret. I didn't really want him to leave, but I was so pissed, and letting him see how upset I was went against everything inside of me.

  Waking up, not sure where Ryan was, I am shocked to find him on the couch. It leaves me feeling uncomfortable. I know that I acted like an ass last night, but in my inebriated state, I really didn't care. In the light of day, I cringe. I know he will be expecting for us to talk, but I’d rather sleep off my hangover.

  I finally get up to the smell of coffee brewing and clattering coming from the kitchen. When I move to sit up, I realize that I’m still wearing my black bra and panties from last night. Ryan’s watch is on his side of the bed and for a moment, I feel like everything is normal. I wish this feeling could stay forever. Minus the raging hangover. A buzzing noise sounds from somewhere in the room and I begin searching for the source. Feeling around and listening to the buzz, I drop to my knees to find my phone hidden beneath my bed. I can only imagine how it ended up there. When I look at the screen, there are a few texts from Joss and Cam.

  Joss: Are you pissed at me?

  Cam: What the hell happened? Why did you call me at 2 am?

  I feel guilty for bothering Cam. I’m not sure why I called her last night, but since Ryan is here, I’m pretty sure I can guess. I send them both texts to let them know I’ll call later before tossing my phone aside. I gather the strength to get to my feet and go to the bathroom to wash my face, only to gasp at my train-wreck appearance. My dark blonde hair that was styled so cute last night is a frizzy mess, and my black eyeliner looks hooker-chic, smeared all over my eyes. Very sexy. I wince when the slightest movement of my head elicits a pain so sharp, I believe lying in bed all day might remedy the unfortunate position I’ve put myself in. I move as fast as I can to clean myself up before pulling on a T-shirt and joining Ryan in the kitchen. At least you look a little better, I mutter to my reflection.

  When I walk out, I have to stifle a gasp because he looks pretty sexy for someone I’m pretty sure I’m still furious with. His disheveled brown hair and morning scruff are two things I love seeing on the weekends. Today, he’s taken it a step further, moving around the kitchen shirtless. I compose myself, walk to the barstool and take a seat without saying a word. Ryan finally looks in my direction and in his eyes I see a flash of amusement, and I know it’s because I’m walking around in nothing but a T-shirt and underwear.

  I hold back a smile, making eye contact with him, both of us playing a game of chicken. I will not flinch. He grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours a cup of coffee before set
ting it in front of me. My lips turn up in a small smile as I pull the mug to my lips, grateful for the silence. Well, aside from the pounding in my head that I’m surprised he can’t hear. I lift my gaze to meet his and he just gawks at me, as though he’s never seen me before.

  “How ya feeling today?” he finally asks. My hand goes straight to my head, signaling that I have a massive headache. “You need to eat something. How ‘bout some cereal?”

  I have to fight the urge to vomit at the mere thought of cereal. “I’m good,” I say in a rush, hoping he doesn’t suggest anything else. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  The silence stretches between us and I feel that so much is being said in the stillness. I’m always the first one to cave when it comes to what Ryan wants. When it comes to the little things, like what we eat, whether or not we go out, apartments to live in, or even where we get married, I tend to let Ryan have the final say. I have done everything he’s wanted, up to now. But I have to stand my ground this time, because this is a big deal, even if he doesn’t think so.

  “Look-”

  “We-” he starts to say at the same time as me. “Go ‘head.”

  The tight smile I give in appreciation makes me feel worlds away from this man who knows me all too well. “I was just going to say I’m sorry about last night. I mean, if I said anything…” I can’t seem to find the words to tell him anything.

  “I -” He seems frustrated, searching for something to say. “Shit, Em, this isn’t us. We don’t fight like this, and we don’t walk away.”

  “Funny,” a scoff escapes, “I thought the same thing, yet there you went.”

  “You told me to leave,” he counters with annoyance, reminding me of my part in that action.

  “And you went,” I finish as I stand up from the barstool. Fortunately, since the apartment is small, I can reach over and put my cup in the sink before walking away.

  “I wasn’t walking out on us; I was walking out on a fight. A fight that clearly isn’t over, and it’s not like you were being rational.”